I..

Just like there are dark colors, there are dark days For now even the colors around me do not seem to love me; the  plucked flower in my fingers still chooses to create art or is it the art that chose it? I think of such times when we'll sit in the sun By a countryside when you'll sing to me incomplete ballads And I'll hum along with my eyes closed. Such subtle simplicities are what you and I are looking for That I fear I'll go blind if I keep on looking For today the colors around me do not love me anymore. Mainu